34 comments/ 43214 views/ 79 favorites Old Neighbours Become New Friends By: ScattySue Welcome, dear reader, to my latest story. This is a romance -- or rather it is two romances because I wanted to try and tell a story from two separate characters' individual points of view. This means three things. Firstly, there is, in places, a degree of repetition as each character tells their own versions of events. Secondly, that the story is rather long; I did consider dividing it into parts but there were no points at which the story could be split without losing the flow. Lastly, as with many of my other stories, the story builds slowly so if you're looking for a quick sex romp story then this isn't for you! Thanks, as ever, to my wonderful editor, Winterreisser, for his excellent editing, comments and encouragement and to Gay Kay for being a lovely friend and chief guinea pig for my writing. Feedback is, of course, very welcome whether as scores or (even more useful to an author) by comments. I hope you enjoy the story. ===================================== Chapter 1: My Neighbour the stranger Mattie I push open the back door of my small block of flats and walk across the small paved area that the estate agents always insist on referring to as a 'patio', though 'small, bleak slab of concrete' would be more accurate as there isn't really room for chairs, much less a table or barbecue. I clamber down, putting my legs under the lower balustrade rail to dangle down towards the garden some six feet below and hook my arms over the middle rail. It's a surprisingly warm evening for the end of April; perhaps the cold, wet spring that felt more like winter is finally ending and summer is here at last. I look across the rectangle of hedge-bounded lawn that is the flats' small communal garden and out across South London towards the North Downs in the hazy distance. That always seems a bit mad, looking south to the North Downs, but that's the way it is. I fumble in my back pocket and pull out the battered and rather squashed cigarette packet trying to ignore words 'Smoking Kills' emblazoned across the front. Yeah, right; and being dumped puts you at risk of terminal depression. I tip out the disposable lighter and shake out a single fag, light it and take a deep draw. Ten weeks, five days, two hours and... forty six minutes since Lisa walked out of my life and I still don't feel I can smoke in the flat because she always hated it and always seemed to know, no matter how many candles I lit or windows I opened. Even cooking curry didn't work; that woman's nose was unbelievable! Shit, I'm crying -- again! The cigarette trembles between my lips, dumping ash onto my white tee shirt that I hastily brush off. God I miss Lisa and, even after the way she left, walking out with the news that she'd been seeing someone else for the previous two months, I'd still have her back in a heartbeat. Of course I would: we'd been together for four and a half years, since her second year at university and I was just an apprentice; she'd been my first proper girlfriend and the girl I'd come out to my parents to be with. And now she is gone. I stub out the cigarette, flicking the butt into the bush below to join the others, before immediately lighting up another. It is going to be a dull, depressing Wednesday night, I can tell. Still, I never get tired of the view, one that I also have from the flat but on such a pleasant evening being outdoors is good. The sound of the door opening behind me makes me jump but I don't turn round; I really don't feel very sociable. I'm surprised therefore when, after briefly standing next to me, someone climbs down to sit beside me. "Hi," the woman says. I glance to the right and see that it's a neighbour; she lives on the first floor I think and we have a nodding 'hello' relationship. There are only eight flats in the whole block, just two per floor, and I don't even really know our -- now just my -- neighbours on the same floor much less anyone living two floors down. However, while I don't know her that doesn't mean I've not noticed her: with her long, dark hair and attractive face, her shapely hips and waist and the latte-coloured skin, of course I've noticed her. "So, is this the smokers' corner?" she asks, trying to engage my attention. My brief glance takes in again the latte complexion and the lustrous, long and dark hair but also this time the dark eyes, above high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face. "Um, yes, I guess," I reply and look away. It occurs to me that I sounded like one of my sullen, teenage nieces when asked if they're enjoying a family gathering. The woman, however, doesn't seem to notice my tone and proceeds to take out a pink tube that I realize is of those e-cigarette things and begins fiddling with it. "Look, I'm sorry if I was a bit rude just then," I apologise, "I'm just a bit out of sorts, I guess." "No, it's fine, really," she replies as she places the tube in her mouth and starts puffing. "You live upstairs, don't you?" she asks and I nod. Looking more carefully she doesn't seem much happier than me. It appears that misery attracts company. I vaguely recall that she lives with a guy; I've seen them together from time to time, coming and going. I wonder why she's upset and whether I really want to know. In the end, my curiosity gets the better of me. "Er, why do you need a smokers' corner to use one of those?" I ask. "I mean, it's not like they give off smoke like real fags do." I hold up my own cigarette as exhibit A. "Oh I don't need to come out for this, particularly not now. It's just an excuse to get outside on a nice day, that's all," she pulls her mouth into what might have been intended as a smile but is more of a grimace. "So are you banished out here when you want to smoke?" "No, well, I used to be, before..." Oh god, no! I'm determined that I will not start blubbing in front of this almost-stranger. "...before my partner left," I finish quietly. "Oh god, you too," she says quietly and her large eyes glisten. "I'm sorry." Is she saying that her bloke has walked out on her? I try to recall and I don't remember their car being in the car park for the past few days. "Sorry, are you saying..." I begin, not sure how to ask what she means but she nods. "My completely ex-boyfriend Gavin's told all our friends that he finished with me because of 'irreconcilable differences', rather than the truth, the lying, shagging bastard." I'm a little startled by how open this woman is being to me. "And the truth was?" I ask without thinking and then worry that I shouldn't have. Pain twists her features but before I can say anything else she replies. "The truth was that I caught him buried cock-deep in a woman -- ha, practically a girl! -- in our bed when I came home early last Monday." "Oh shit! That sounds like a pretty irreconcilable difference," I tell her and she gives a tearful little chuckle. "Very true," she sighs. "So anyway, it's 'Hello, Dumpsville, Arizona, population: me...' and you too by the sounds of it." She gives a slightly strained smile and I give a slight smile back. "Oh, I'm Raveena, by the way, Raveena Roy." "Mattie, er, Mattie McConnell. Nice to finally talk to you Raveena." "And to you, Mattie. You've now spoken to me more than my next-door neighbours in number four ever have: they always both blank me as they walk past," she grumbles. I finish the second cigarette "I don't really know anyone in the block. I guess we all ought to know each other really, given how close together we all live." "Maybe, but then this is London and we're all too busy with our own lives I guess... until something goes wrong." There is that edge of despair in her voice again. If I were a better, stronger person I would reach out and comfort her and know the right thing to say, rather than the only thing that occurs to me, which would be a very unhelpful comment of 'That's what you get for being with a guy.' However, I can't honestly think that what Gavin did to her was too much worse than what Lisa did to me, so I can't claim any moral superiority for lesbianism. I climb to my feet. "Sorry but I've got to go, Raveena," I tell her. "I hope you'll be okay." "Thanks, Mattie; you too." She turns to look out into the distance as I head indoors and up to my top-floor flat. Old Neighbours Become New Friends Raveena follows them across the hallway, "Gavin, you heartless bastard; this is so unfair!" she complains, her voice breaking. They ignore her and begin moving down the stairs with Sadie the Feeble laboriously following. "Raveena? Are you okay?" I ask, coming unnoticed down the final steps and approaching her. "What's happening?" To my surprise she steps forward and throws her arms around me, burying her head in my shoulder and sobbing. The feeling of her is startling, awkward and rather pleasant, all at the same time, as I tentatively hug her back and make sympathetic noises. I'd come down just to lend some moral support; the fact that our rather unhappy conversation yesterday makes me her best source of comfort is rather sad. "Raveena?" "It's so horrible," she whispers, her head still pressed against me. "I'm sure he's just taking things to punish me; I mean, I can understand him wanting the telly but why take the bookcase or the dining table and chairs? I bet he doesn't need them." "Has he said he's taking anything else?" I ask, keeping my voice low and hugging her a little more tightly for a moment. She releases her embrace and move back a little to look at me. "He said he wants the bed." She hesitates and adds, "In some ways he'd be welcome to it as I can't help remembering the sight of him fucking that bimbo every time I look at it." I nod in understanding as my own bed has more memories of Lisa than are good for me. "Can you afford to replace the bed?" I ask. "I can't really afford to replace any of this stuff," she tells me sadly. "I take it he's not offered to pay anything?" I ask and she shakes her head. "You haven't anything of his you could ransom have you?" Another head shake. "That just leaves blackmail then. Do you know any of his dirty little secrets?" I'm more than half joking at this point but to my surprise a hard gleam appears in her eyes. "Ha, maybe I should threaten him with putting the photos I have on Facebook." I look at her questioningly and she pulls out her iPhone and taps it. "I, um, took these when I saw what they were doing; I didn't want to be able to pretend to myself later that I hadn't seen what I did." She shows me the phone and there are three photos: all show Gavin from behind, mounted on top of Sadie who has her legs wrapped around his waist. In the middle photo her face, open-mouthed and eyes closed, is clearly visible. "Shit, it looks like he's screwing her in the arse!" I exclaim. Raveena looks at the photo. "He wasn't but you're right, it does look like it," she agrees but shakes her head. "However, there's no point in my threatening him with these; he'll just laugh at me. Knowing him he'll think the photos make him look like some kind of super stud" I thought for a minute. She was probably right; the photo wouldn't upset him too much, even if you could see his face. It would almost certainly matter to the bimbo Sadie though... Now, I may not be into men in any way, but I work with them and while men don't seem to go in for deep meaningful conversations when socialising it's surprising what they'll discuss when working alongside one another. One thing I had learned was how much guys will do to be with a sexy woman and Sadie, though apparently having the brains of a goose and the personality of a rat, was physically very sexy and apparently very enthusiastic in bed. Gavin wasn't going to let that go easily. "Do you want me to help? I think I know a way to get him to cough some money." "Fuck, it's that dyke bitch from upstairs." Gavin's voice startles both me and Raveena. "Ugh, a dirty lezzer," the woman's voice chimes in, "do you think she ever gets mistaken for a man?" she gives a simpering giggle. Oh, thank you, Sadie; I might have had a conscience about doing this until you said that. "Probably more often than your pathetic boyfriend has," I turn and tell her and Gavin gives me a filthy look. "Come on Dave, let's get the bed." Gavin says and marches past Raveena with Dave in tow. Sadie moves to follow but I stop her with a gentle hand on her arm. "Just a moment, er, Sadie. You look like a woman who uses Facebook, yes?" I ask innocently. "What? Yes, no wait, I mean what's it got to do with you?" she looks at me suspiciously. "Oh, I just wanted some advice on what you think would make a good tag for this picture. I can't decide between 'Cheating bastard boyfriend Gavin fucks bimbo in the arse' or 'Slutty bitch loves Gavin giving it to her up the shit'. What do you think? Tagged and shared with everyone, of course." I show her the photo and the look of terrified horror on her face is perfection. "You wouldn't dare?" she stammers. "What, a dirty lezzer like me wouldn't dare humiliate a bitchy straight bimbo like you? Want to bet your reputation on it?" I ask, fixing her with my hardest, meanest stare. She looks towards Raveena in mute appeal. "You reckon you'll get any help there?" I laugh and she looks miserable. "Of course, if you can come up with -- what do you think Raveena? -- say three hundred pounds to compensate for the outrageous taking of furniture, then I think Raveena might not feel the need to share the photo." Raveena nods. "Off you go then; you've got ten minutes." She walks towards the flat. "Oh, just one thing," I warn, "if the bastard ex or his mate come and upset Raveena, then I promise the photos will be posted not only on Facebook but on so many other sites on the internet, with your names in full, that the photo will be the first thing anyone Googling your names will find." She nods and walks away. "Mattie, you have a very mean streak!" Raveena says to me, smiling as she takes the phone and slips it into her pocket, "and I mean that in frank admiration because I'm too much of a coward! I wonder what the bastard will do?" "Cough up the money, I should think. Would you settle for two hundred and fifty quid if he haggles?" "Mattie, it'll be bloody amazing to get anything!" In the end, with Sadie flapping backwards and forwards trying to negotiate, we settle on two hundred and sixty-five pounds (all the money the three of them could scrape together on such short notice) with the bastard thinking he's done well by insisting on taking the bed. We watch them drive off. "Mattie, thanks ever so much for helping me; you were a complete star." "It's no problem, Raveena. He was a chauvinistic, homophobic bastard. She wasn't much better; they deserve each other." "Um, Mattie," she begins hesitantly and I think I can guess what's coming, "er, are you gay?" she finishes in a rush and it makes me smile. "I mean, when you threatened that bitch you called yourself a, um, 'lezzer'." "Yes, Raveena, I'm gay, though I wouldn't usually use the term 'dirty lezzer' to describe myself." I look at her and decided to come clean. "I said my partner had left me when we met the other day... her name was Lisa. Is that a problem?" "I've gay men as friends and colleagues but you're my first gay woman friend." "I'll bet I'm not but... you called us friends?" I say, touched and surprised. "Sure. Only a friend would have helped me like you did." "Thank you, Raveena. Can I ask what are you're going to do for a bed now the bastard's nicked yours?" "Well, I've an inflatable guest bed somewhere that I can use but I'll need to buy a new one from somewhere." "There's always Ikea," I suggest. "True, apart from two things," she smiles. "First, I haven't a car and second I'm allergic to flat packs!" and she makes me laugh. "Well, I can help you with both of those, if you like, since we're friends." "Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that," she protests. " "Why not? I quite like Ikea and you could always stand me breakfast if you like." "That's very kind, Mattie, thank you." Old Neighbours Become New Friends It's a longer journey and two buses taking us up through Streatham. The club entrance is discrete, a pair of double doors between an estate agents on one side and a sports shop on the other. I'm sure I'd never have noticed it had I been walking past. Above the doors is the club name - The Rose Garden - and a pair of roses entwined. We make out way in, paying a fairly nominal entrance fee before heading down a flight of stairs to find ourselves in a large room. It is subtly lit with a bar along one wall, booths and tables around the edge and a dance floor in the centre with just a few women dancing to the music being played by the DJ in one corner. It's not very busy and we find a booth before I go to the bar and buy the first round of drinks. Kayleigh and Emma thank me, considering me generous but it gives me the chance to buy and drink a Jameson Whiskey before taking my beer, Emma's dry white wine and Kayleigh's vodka and diet coke. We drink and chat for a bit, even Em and Kay happy to sit while the dance floor remains so underused. However, the club is gradually filling up and before long Em is pulling me from my seat to join them on the dance floor. Though reluctant I remember my promise and allow myself to be semi-dragged into dancing to a fast, repetitive track. It's not that I dislike dancing; it's more that I'm a bit too self-conscious, rarely completely losing myself in the music and the movement of my body, usually wondering what someone seeing me might think. That's why a few drinks are an essential prerequisite. My self-consciousness means that I'm very aware as another group of three women merge themselves into our little group. Kay and Em seem to move so unconsciously and instinctively to allow them to join us that at first I wonder if they are even aware they've done it. When I notice that their group, like ours, seems to be couple and a singleton I begin to suspect accidental or deliberate matchmaking by the two couples. I look at the woman I think is single: dyed burgundy-red hair, grey eyes and a youthful rounded face and soft, short, feminine figure. She catches my eye and raises her eyes in a look of exasperation that so matches my own feelings that I find myself smiling back. She leans in, "Hi," she says over the music, "I'm Charlotte." "Mattie," I tell her in reply. "So you've been, er, encouraged to be here too?" "Di and Lucy mean well," she smiles as the music's volume dips momentarily as a new track emerges from the end of the previous one. "Yeah, I know the feeling!" I agree. We dance together for a while before all heading back to sit. Six of us together in the booth is a bit of a squash but it's a little quieter and we can talk. Kayleigh and Lucy visit the bar for more drinks and it starts to shape up to an enjoyable evening. When there's a move back to the dance floor I take Charlotte's hand to help her out of the narrow booth. Our hands remain together as we navigate onto the dance floor when I happen to glance to the right... straight into Lisa's eyes. The world seems to come to a halt; everything else fades but Lisa and me. I can feel my heart hammering and my throat tightens to the point of pain. Oh Lisa, my beautiful woman, my love... can you be here for me? Have you come back at last? I am filled with wild hopes and excitement for this is too wonderful to be believed. And there is a twinge of guilt too, guilt that I'd been dancing with Charlotte. Had Lisa seen? I blink and see that Lisa is holding another woman's hand, a tall, gym-toned woman, slim and with short blonde hair. Lisa turns and pulls the woman into a tight embrace and their kiss is deep, passionate and lingering. Once again, as on that evening two and a half months ago, my heart breaks and I fight tears. The kiss ends and Lisa glances back towards me. I feel a flare of anger: Lisa, the woman I still held in my heart, had deliberately kissed her new lover right in front of me, taunting and mocking me, the, the... the bitch! In a rage I turn and grab Charlotte, tugging her to me and startling her. I kiss her roughly, determined to pay Lisa back for her treatment of me. The kiss lasts the moment it takes Charlotte to recover from her surprise when she immediately pulls away. I see confusion in her face; oh shit what was I doing? Then she grins and lunges forward, planting her mouth on mine. Now it is my turn to be surprised, surprised and not a little aroused as I feel Charlotte's mouth open. I respond and our tongues entwine; there are needs and urges inside me that, having been chained up by loss for eleven weeks, this kiss is unlocking. "Oh god I want you!" I growl as our mouths separate, but whether I'm talking to Charlotte or Lisa I cannot tell. I feel Charlotte take my hand and gently pull me and I glance at her face to see her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide and dark with arousal, glittering with disco lights. I follow as she turns and heads off the dancefloor. She leads me through an opening at one end of the bar into a short corridor. There are double doors at the end with panic bars that Charlotte pushes and I find that we're in a stairwell. She backs into the wall, tugging me with her. "You want me, Mattie: take me!" I am filled by a mixture of anger at Lisa, excitement and these sudden events, alcohol and... yes, simple horniness, primal and urgent lust. I press her against the wall and kiss her hard and she opens to me, her mouth almost sucking my tongue in. My hand cups her left boob: it is wonderfully soft and full. I squeeze gently as my thumb rubs the hard swelling of her nipple and she gives a moan of arousal and pleasure into our kiss. I move to kiss her neck and smell her perfume, a light, slightly spicy musk that suits her perfectly. I trail kisses just below her jaw and then down. I give the soft flesh a little nip and she groans, "Oh god Mattie, fuck me, please!" I am going to make this woman cum, right here and now. My hand drops, slipping up under her short skirt and my fingers brush satin panties. The fabric is warm and soft and I can feel the line of her pussy's cleft in the swell of her vulva. I feel my own body's arousal: the hard, tight tingle of my nipples and the wonderful hot, prickling dampness of my pussy. However boyishly I dress, I love the way my body feels, especially when I'm aroused. And I am so turned on! My hand massages Charlotte's sex through her panties and she writhes under my touch. I suddenly realize how much I've missed sex and that I'm desperate to taste a woman once again. "Lift your skirt," I say, my voice so thick with lust I can barely speak, and she immediately complies. I squat before her, one hand pushing her leg to open wide the other tugging the satin fabric aside, revealing the soft down of her neatly trimmed pubes and the beautiful red wetness of her swollen labia. "Oh yes, yes," I hear her say as my mouth closes over her womanhood, my tongue immediately penetrating her. The taste of Charlotte's sex explodes in my mouth and I cannot help a soft moan of pleasure. I suck and lick, savouring the best taste in the world. I raise my right hand, slipping it up the inside of her thigh, upwards, higher, higher until my fingers gently penetrate her. The soft, wet walls of her pussy take two of my fingers and these begin to fuck her, in and out with a lovely slurp and squelch sound. I penetrate her deeply as my tongue once again begins to lap at her pussy lips. Charlotte is giving little mewls of pleasure and excitement whose tempo increases with that of my fingers. I feel her tremble and my mouth moves up to suck the top of her cunt before my tongue flicks out to brush the hard lump of her clitoris, making her squeak. My own lust drives me hungrily on and I begin to lash and lick her clit mercilessly as my fingers redouble their efforts. There is no subtlety or finesse here, just the urge to bring her fast and hard to orgasm. Within minutes it begins. Her hips try to buck and twist but I grasp them with both hands, pinning her to the wall as my mouth pleasures her. She cums with a loud cry that echoes in the stairwell and thick cream oozes into my mouth that I drink down avidly. Charlotte struggles to remain standing as her orgasm passes and she pants heavily. I move the fabric of her panties back over her puffy, glistening pussy and notice that some of the delicate lace trim has torn away and is loose where I yanked the panties aside. "Oh, Miss Mattie, you can do whatever you like to your little Charlotte tonight," she tells me in a simpering voice. "I'll be a good little slut, I promise" She smiles happily but as my excitement wanes I am shocked that I could have torn her clothing. "What?" is all I manage to ask. "A big, strong woman like you could tell me to do anything and I'd have to obey or you'd punish me." "What?" I say again, "No, I wouldn't," I protest, climbing to my feet. "Charlotte, I'm so sorry I was rough with you then I, I don't know what came over me." "Well, Mistress, the obvious answer is: me!" she says, smiling as she reaches up and touches my cum-stained cheek. "But Mistress doesn't have to apologise for being rough with her little slut." I feel anger again inside me; anger at her but even more at myself for doing what I did, for becoming something I'm not. "Charlotte, no! For fuck's sake, I'm no one's mistress and certainly not yours!" She looks shocked at first but this quickly becomes upset, as if I've betrayed her. "Why did you kiss me and finger fuck me then?" she demands. "You dress like that, you grab me and kiss me on the dancefloor and lick me and finger me and now say you don't want me! You... bitch!" She pushes past and I see tears in her eyes. The door slams and I'm left alone in the stairwell. Why did I do what I did? I sit on the bottom step, my head in my hands. I know why I did it: to get back at Lisa, to have sex with another woman just like she is fucking that blonde bitch girlfriend of hers. I don't know which is more upsetting: what I did, why I did it or that fact that it made me Charlotte's dream dominatrix. I ought to talk to Charlotte again, to apologise and try to explain who and what I am, so I dry my face on the tail of my shirt and, tucking it back in, I head back into the nightclub. On impulse I stop at the bar and order a double whiskey that I gulp down hastily before ordering the same again. I'd just taken a mouthful of this second drink when Kayleigh and Emma locate me. "What the fuck happened back then?" Kayleigh demands. "The way you attacked Charlotte with that kiss, then the two of you disappear and then she comes back all tearful... Mattie, what's the matter?" "Guess," I tell her, lifting my face towards her, letting her see the upset that I know must show there. "I've no idea, Mattie, but you look dreadful..." she turns as Emma taps her shoulder and points across the dance floor. "Oh shit: Lisa," Kay gasps and I take another gulp of whiskey and signal the barwoman for another refill. At this point getting seriously hammered is a very appealing idea and I slap another ten pound note on the bar. I drain my current glass and pick up the third to drink when Emma places her hand over the glass, stopping me. "Mattie, stop a moment," she pleads, "tell us what happened." "Lisa, she happened... kissing her new girlfriend in front of me... deliberately," I gasp, fighting to keep from sobbing. Emma's hand drops and I immediately drink. "And then Charlotte... we had sex, in some back corridor, and...Oh god it's all such a mess; I'm a mess!" I drain the glass but the alcohol doesn't seem to affect me, offers no anaesthesia. "Come on, we'll take you home," says Kayleigh. "I... I ought to say sorry to Charlotte," I say dejectedly. "Too late, I'm afraid," Emma tells me, "she and Di and Lucy left shortly after she came back without you." "Oh fuck. I'm so sorry..." They shush me, take my arms and guide me from the nightclub and up the stairs into the cold night air. However, the reviving effects of the chill breeze have less effect on me than the rapidly consumed alcohol that is now flooding my veins and I stumble slightly on a paving slab. "Ooops!" I mumble. I recall little of the journey home except Kay and Em looking after me. I explain, ramblingly, what happened and pour out my embarrassment and shame at the way I used Charlotte to get back at Lisa. Eventually, we arrive at my flat and, after seeing me to my front door, my two good, kind, caring and generous friends say goodbye and I enter the sanctuary of my home. Inside me feelings of love and hate and guilt churn together as I fall, still fully clothed, onto my bed. Old Neighbours Become New Friends "I can imagine; how do you tell your parents that you've been sleeping with the female lodger?" I asked curiously. "Not easily, was the answer. However, Mum and Dad seemed more upset at first with the idea that Lisa had betrayed their hospitality by sleeping with me than about the fact that I had just told them I was a lesbian!" She shook her head in frustration. "We ended up moving out quite quickly and started life together in the flat upstairs. Actually, I think that helped because Mum and Dad seemed to accept my sexuality, and Lisa too, quite quickly after that. I guess the fact that they're not religious may have helped too." For some reason it occurred to me that, with my Mum, religion would have been much less of an issue than the probable lack of grandchildren! The fact that at twenty-five I was again single and still childless was a boringly repetitive theme of any conversation with her at the moment. "It's very good that they accepted you: I've a gay friend, Kevin, who's barely spoken to his parents in years since he came out. So you and Lisa were together a long time?" "Yes, some four and-a-bit years," Mattie said sadly, "and then Lisa walked away." "Can I ask what happened?" I enquired gently. "You don't have to say if it's too painful." She took a deep breath and roughly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's been nearly three months; it shouldn't still be painful. I shouldn't still be bursting into tears every time I think of her!" she complained and I again squeezed her hand that I still held, watching her as she chewed the inside of her cheek before continuing. "Okay, maybe telling you will help. The thing was I guess things had been a bit, I don't know, uneasy between us, Lisa and me," Mattie said sadly. "She was an English graduate and she read loads and liked to talk about literature and all that highbrow stuff and I just had nothing to say; my reading is limited to books like Harry Potter and The Hunger Games." "They're good books!" I told her, making her smile and I gesture over to the books stacked along the wall where both sets of books were to be seen. "Yeah, but Lisa didn't think so. Anyway, she went out more with friends from work and her old University friends. It was one of them, a girl she'd been with in her first year at University that she started seeing." Mattie began crying again and I moved over to hug her again and this time I felt her hug me back, which I found sweet. "Mattie, I don't mean to sound trite but her leaving you wasn't your fault: it was her choice. I keep telling myself that it's not my fault that Gavin was a lying, cheating bastard and the same is true for you. You need to let her go." "I know, but it's hard!" I warned her that even if Lisa came back tomorrow, she couldn't just take her back. "The old relationship you had is over," I pointed out, "so you'd have to start almost from the start, finding out who she really is... and she may not be the person you're meant to be with." She looked at me intently, obviously thinking hard. "You're right," she said eventually. "When I saw her yesterday I was... love-struck, I guess. I even felt guilty for dancing with another woman earlier in the evening and that's ridiculous, isn't it? And then when she kissed that blonde woman it hurt so much and I was so angry... I wanted to get back at her, hurt her as she was hurting me." She looked at me sadly. "I just grabbed the girl I'd danced with and kissed her, hard, without care or love." Tears are trickling from her eyes. "It was horrible of me to do that to her, and I never said sorry." I was surprised at her confession, a little shocked too I suppose but I tried to comfort her, telling her she'd been upset and confused. I edged closer and slipped my arm around her to just be a source of comfort. There was an odd contrast between the firm muscles of her body and the emotional softness and vulnerability within her. Eventually she calmed. "Thank you, Raveena, for listening and caring." I felt, in a small way, that I'd repaid her for her help yesterday. I'd told her that I'd never know a lesbian before so I hoped she'd forgive my curiosity when I asked her if she was what they called a butch lesbian. She gave a slight grimace and I worried. "Sorry, Mattie, I didn't mean to offend you," I apologised hastily. "No, it's okay Raveena," she answered tiredly. "The answer is probably, yes; at least a lot of gay women would call me that, but I hate the term 'butch', I really do." "Why's that?" "Partly it's just the word 'butch' -- it always make me think of that ugly dog in the 'Tom and Jerry' cartoons," she glanced up at my amused snort. "That's so not you!" I assured her and smile, "you're very attractive and lovely." I blurted this out without thinking; it's what I think but maybe I shouldn't have said it. "Thank you, Raveena, you're very kind." She hesitated then remembered what she was saying. "It's not just the word 'butch' though. I hate the assumptions that go with it." She asked if I really wanted to know when I asked her to explain. "Okay, well it's lots of things, like people thinking that I literally want to be a man, which I don't; I actually like my body the way it is, female, you know." "So what made you want to be a, a tomboy? Isn't that like wanting to be a bloke?" I was intrigued to know. "I liked the freedom boys seemed to have to run and mess around and play football and get dirty without being told they had to be quiet and neat and tidy and be 'ladylike'. Do you understand? I wasn't interested in clothes and makeup but I liked practical things which everyone seemed to say were boy things. So why not join the boys: dress like them, play football with them," she smiled, "I guess I ended up fancying girls the way they do too!" She laughed briefly but then hesitated. "Of course, that's part of the 'butch' problem too: the assumptions that I'll be dominant, that I'll want to be in control of the lovemaking and the giving of pleasure; basically that I must want to be 'the man' in the relationship. That's what Charlotte, the woman last night, assumed, but that's not who I am. I want to share as an equal... am I stupid to want that?" "No, Mattie, it's not," I assure her. "Gavin always wanted me to be the 'little woman' and I went along with it and let him, almost without realizing it. It was so good when you made me get on and put the table and chairs together on my own. I guess the only stupid thing is ending up as something you're not for the sake of someone else." She looked at me, then nodded. "That's a very wise observation," she told me. "You're not just a very pretty face, Raveena," she added, making me bashful. "What do you do for a living," she asks. She was interested in my job as a physiotherapist, particularly as she's once been a patient at King's College Hospital, before my time though. "So do you do massages?" she asked and I admitted that I did. "I do sometimes as part of my treatment but I trained in sports massage too. Why?" I asked suspiciously. "Have you a nagging ache you need treating?" "Not at the moment," she smiled and it was good to see her a little happier. She took a deep breath "Anyway, how're the table and chairs standing up?" she asked. "Absolutely fine," I assured her, "and thank you for helping me overcome my flat-pack assembly-phobia! "No problem; I'm always happy to show a woman she doesn't have to depend on a man!" she smiled but there was definitely more than one meaning to that comment and she knew it. To cover my discomfort I asked her what she did and was amazed to hear she works as an electrician and full of admiration as she told of the problems of being a woman in a very male-dominated job. I asked her if she would you like another cup of electrician's tea. "Builder's tea!" she laughs, "and that would be lovely, thanks." When I handed her the tea I put on a serious face. "Right, now we can talk about something I really want to know about you: which do you think is better, 'The Hunger Games' trilogy or the 'Divergent' trilogy?" Mattie laughed. I don't think we reached a conclusion, though Mattie insisted that either would have been better with a lesbian love interest rather than the boringly predictable heterosexual one. When I pointed out that these were classed as books for teens and young adults her reply was that there are teenage lesbians too, which was, I had to admit, a fair point. We chatted on for some time and I lent her one of my books, 'The Girl with all the Gifts' to read and she promised to drop one in to me later. Old Neighbours Become New Friends I was intrigued going into her flat for the first time, wondering what her tastes were: was she tidy, what colours did she like, were there pictures, what furniture? The short hall is pale cream with a varnished wood floor that continued throughout the flat. I could identify each room of course as her flat has exactly the same layout as this one. Her bedroom door was ajar: the surprisingly feminine pale lilac of the walls was echoed in the slightly darker duvet cover that I could see covering the corner of the bed that was just visible. She led me into the tidy and clean main room --the estate agents' descriptions called it a 'lounge-diner' -- which, perhaps unsurprisingly, wouldn't have looked the least bit out of place in the Ikea catalogue and that thought made me smile. Mattie noticed and smiled back, evidently reading my thoughts. "It's not all from Ikea!" she protests. "There's stuff from Habitat too." I assured her it was lovely, which it is. My eye was drawn to a single large poster on the long wall opposite the window: it was a collage of dozens and dozens of movie posters, each about the size of a playing card. There were many I recognised but many more I didn't and it was an eclectic mix covering an impressive range in terms of dates and genres. "My hundred favourite films, as of a couple of years ago," she told me as she saw what I was looking at. "It's brilliant," I replied, "it's the sort of think you could spend ages studying. So what's your favourite film?" "Oh, that question's too difficult; I found it hard to get it down to just my favourite hundred," she laughed. I looked around the room and suggested that for the massage she sat backwards on one of her dining chairs. I put towels on the wooden back of the chair to support and cushion her head whilst she got ready. She was disturbingly happy to get undressed. I did wonder if she was being deliberately flirtatious but I stayed professional, reminding myself to treat her as any other client. When she did strip I have to confess that I struggled not to stare. I've seen my fair share of women undressed, in changing rooms and as a physiotherapist but there is something about Mattie physically that I find... not actually attractive, obviously but... intriguing? Captivating? Her boobs looked good, I mean they suited her. Why did I write that? I added lavender to the massage oil on the basis it would help her physically and emotionally and then I massaged her. Perhaps it was the affection I feel for Mattie, for what she's done for me, for the bad things she too has gone through but I really loved massaging her. Why am I being so bashful in my private diary? I should be able to admit how much I enjoyed massaging Mattie, how much I liked the feel of her skin under my hands: as soft as any woman's but with a muscular firmness beneath that reminds me of sportswomen. I watched my dark fingers glide across her pale skin and the dark ink of her Celtic tattoo. I couldn't help prolonging the massage, not that Mattie minded, not one bit. It was no surprise that she said her muscles were mush after almost forty minutes of being worked on -- but mush in a good way! She invited me to stay and eat, and of course I accepted. Mattie makes very nice Spaghetti Carbonara and we chatted and drank. I think she gets lonely too in the evenings. The view from her window is even better than mine as she is well above the trees and bushes. I pointed to the hills on the horizon, the North Downs, and told her that was where I grew up. As we sat and ate and talked the sky darkened and lights came on outside, until we were looking out across a glittering sea of lights: the motionless glowing of offices, houses and street lights and the moving twinkles of vehicles. It was magical; the view and the meal and Mattie. While we talked what I wanted to ask her was what it's like being a lesbian, what does she think and feel when she looks at a woman? And how did she know she was gay and not, say, bisexual? I'm not sure why I want to know all this -- no, I do know why: it's because it's been sort of playing on my mind, like when I looked at her topless. I didn't ask her, of course: I wouldn't want her to feel I was prying and, well, I don't want her to think I fancy her or anything. Tuesday 29 April I found a book sitting outside my door when I left for work this morning with a slip of paper tucked into it: Old Neighbours Become New Friends "You're, um, very attractive too," she blushes prettily. "Thank you. You're very lovely too," I assure her, "but you've never been with a woman?" She takes a large gulp of her whiskey, draining the glass. "Would you like another?" I ask, pointing to her empty glass. "Please," she nods. Once she has her refill and I have another beer, I pose the question of her experience again. "I've wondered about it since I was a teenager; there was always a, a, an interest in girls, women, but I've never acted on it before now. I've always suspected I might be bisexual, so..." "So you want to find out for sure," I finish for her and she nods. She is now a little more relaxed and gives a small smile and I notice she really is quite cute. However, even if I was on the lookout, getting involved with a bi-curious woman? NOT going to happen! Still, I ought to be kind and support someone trying to understand their sexuality. "That was the idea," she admits. "I guess I don't have much idea of how to know if a woman is lesbian and much less how to approach her." "Well, you started off okay; the comment about the whiskey was a good start and even finding out if I was on my own was fine -- a good idea actually -- but then you seemed to be criticising Kayleigh and Emma for leaving me. I think that simply 'Can I join you?' would have been better." She nods then holds out her hand. "Hi, I'm Roz, do you mind if I join you?" she smiles as I shake her hand. "Sure, no problem; I'm Mattie. Is this your first time here?" "Yeah. Slightly terrified actually but also more than a bit excited to be doing something I've wondered about for so long. So, you're not with anyone, I mean, not in a relationship?" "No and sorry Roz, but I'm not looking to be, not at the moment." I can see the penny drop for her: single woman dragged out to a nightclub by her girlfriends so maybe she can meet someone... the same story if you're straight or gay. "I think I understand. Okay, that kind of makes it easier; we can just chat." "Absolutely," I tell her. "So what does Roz do for a living?" "Oh, I'm an architect, a junior in the practice of course. Mainly housing developments but I did most of the design work on a small warehouse and office for a company a few months ago. What about you, Mattie?" "I'm a sparks, an electrician. I guess that kinda makes me a bit of a tomboy lesbian stereotype; you know, a woman in a man's job but I wanted to do something practical that also used my brain and my Dad suggested it. He's a plumber but said that being a sparks was cleaner and less smelly!" "There can't be many women in your job." "No, not many, though there was one other girl on the apprenticeship. We both had to really work to prove we weren't useless girlies." I give a little laugh. "She was straight and in some ways she got more hassle with the boys trying it on with her. Dressing and looking like I do did make it a bit easier to become one of the lads I guess, though there are always sexists and homophobes, unfortunately." "There are quite a lot of women architects these days, though the older, senior ones seem to mainly be men. One of the senior architects at work is an openly gay man and he seems quite accepted. I guess seeing lesbian women more and more in the media has sort of helped me in deciding to do this, to explore my other, erm, sexuality. Here, can I get you a drink?" Roz asks and I accept another beer. We continue to chat and I find she's quite good company. Our shared involvement in the building industry helps but she is also friendly and has a self-depreciating humour that is so unlike the persona she tried to project when she first approached me. "The worst mistake I've made at work?" I repeat her question to buy time to think. "Um, well we had some work in a school IT room and there was a run of power sockets along one wall so I placed all the sockets out and went and wired each one then started screwing them to the wall; except that I found I'd wired all ten of them upside down! What about you?" I ask as she laughs. "Let me think... Um, there was this one time when I managed to..." "Well, so much for one drink and then you'd come and dance!" Kayleigh's voice interrupts Roz. "That looks like your third drink at least. Hmm, and you've found a new friend I see Mattie." Roz is startled by the interruption as I am too but surprise is quickly replaced by annoyance at the smirks on Kay's and Em's faces. "Cut it out you guys," I warn them. "Roz, this is Emma and Kayleigh, self-appointed and over-enthusiastic keepers of my emotional wellbeing and remaining sanity." "Whom you love dearly and wouldn't be without," points out Emma, grinning. "Which is also true," I concede. "Kay, Em, this is Roz, a... newbie," I look at her and she nods. "In, er, every way," she adds. I glower at the terrible two, willing them not to say anything inappropriate or embarrassing to Roz. Remarkably, this seems to work. "Hi Roz," says Emma who leans in to kiss her cheek as Kayleigh gives a little wave and also says hello. "So why don't the two of you come up and dance?" Emma asks. I look at Roz, feeling I should let her decide if she wants to go. She seems quite keen so we all head up to the thumping darkness of the nightclub. We merge into the crowd on the dance floor, as I pick up the rhythm of the song and begin to move in time. I've never been the world's greatest or most flamboyant dancer; when I get into it I quite like the way the music and my body's movement makes me feel, but mainly I dance just to be with my friends. Roz, on the other hand, is remarkable: confident and accomplished she moves beautifully and artfully. Kay and Em notice this and follow with bolder and more adventurous moves than usual and even I feel the need to up my game a little so as to remain part of the group. One song shifts to another and the three of us fall into the habit of waiting for Roz to set the pace and nature of the dance before we follow. Despite, or maybe because of this, I'm having more fun dancing than I have in a very long time. For once I don't cry off after the first few tracks. The song changes yet again and I do not register the change in tempo, waiting as usual for Roz to respond, which she does: she turns towards me and her hands slip around my waist as she sways in time to the slow beat of the love song. Instinctively I reciprocate and we interlock, our bodies moving together in synch to the music. My eyes close as the heat of her presses against me, the soft swell of her breasts on mine. Her head moves to rest on my shoulder and I reach up to stroke her hair. The feeling of slow dancing and being held takes me back to a happier time. Oh Lisa I've missed this... but instead of Lisa's silky, straight hair my fingers caress Roz's soft, curly locks and I tremble. Lisa is not here, she is with her new girlfriend somewhere. So why do I feel like I'm being unfaithful to her? At the same time there is anger, as I see in my mind's eye Lisa kissing that blonde bitch, and fear; fear of Roz's evident attraction to me. I feel panicky, my heart racing and my breathing fast and shallow; I need space and time to calm down and think, not this hot, loud and pulsating room. I step back so suddenly that Roz stumbles. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. Sorry Roz." I turn quickly, my arm bumping Kayleigh and she and Emma break their embrace to look at me as I move away. "Mattie? Wait, Mattie..." Roz calls loudly but I do not stop. I am trembling and panting as I flee downstairs and outside, walking quickly away through the people milling on the street in the warm night air, laughter and shouts and the sound of traffic doing nothing to calm me. I glance over my shoulder and see a black cab, a haven of solitude and calm. I hail it and, when it pulls over and the driver asks, "Where to, luv?" I automatically give my address before flopping onto the wide, worn seat at the back. I hug myself, trying to steady my breathing and not cry. I feel so useless. I arrive home, pay the driver and get out. As I walk towards the door I glance up; Veena's light is on and I consider going up and knocking on her door. She'd hug me and listen to me and take care of me I'm sure because she has such strength and kindness. No, I can't: it's not fair to keep crying on her shoulder every time I become an emotional screw-up. I'm inside and I realise that my feet have taken me towards the garden and my smoking spot even as my left hand has pulled the packet of fags from my jacket pocket. Why am I so fucking incapable of sorting myself out? Why do I need Veena or cigarettes or Em or Kayleigh or alcohol for everything? For a tough, independent tomboy I'm pretty bloody feeble. Enough! I crush the cigarette packet in my hand and I stomp upstairs. I need to stop this, once and for all. As Veena pointed out weeks ago, Lisa has gone and the person I keep remembering doesn't exist because Lisa is different now, a stranger to me. I treated Roz badly tonight, I guess, though I had told her I wasn't looking to hook up, which means she had no right to expect anything, right? Still, she was cute and we were getting along very well. No, best to remember that she's experimenting and I'm not sure I'm up to dealing with the emotional conflicts that might come up. I did like what I'd seen of her though. Old Neighbours Become New Friends I suggested that she try an e-cig if she wants to give up. She was sceptical, given that I'm still using mine just as much and I had to admit that it was my excuse to join her when she went out for a smoke. She told me that I didn't need an excuse and that I was possibly her best friend. I felt the back of my neck tingle when she said that. She told me that liked it that I didn't drag her to gay clubs to meet women. My mouth seemed to start saying words without consulting my brain: I offered to go with her to a gay club if not being on her own would help. I can't quite believe I said it but she was evidently moved by the offer, even as she said she loved me too much to make me her "fake girlfriend". I insisted that I loved her enough to do it. I wonder if it wasn't my mouth but my heart that was speaking, that perhaps, subconsciously, I was trying to tell her that I felt something towards her. I asked her what happened last night and she told me: she met a woman, Roz. She's got on well with her and had danced with her but then, because Roz had never had a girlfriend and was exploring her sexually ('bi-curious' Mattie called her) Mattie walked out on her. Mattie told me that she was too afraid of being hurt again to be a woman's bi-curious experiment. I tried to say the right thing, telling her that she couldn't keep pushing people away because of Lisa. I know that if and when Mattie gets a girlfriend I'll lose this close relationship with her but I can't deny Mattie a chance for happiness; what kind of friend would I be if I did? I said the right thing; I even said it like I actually meant it. And yet did I really mean it? I'd miss her company and companionship so much. I love spending time with Mattie, obviously. I think she's attractive, I admit it. I know before I said I couldn't say that about a woman, particularly a lesbian woman, but it's the truth and I should be able to admit that in privacy of my diary. Actually, attractive is possibly understating it; she is a wonderful person and physically... she is beguiling, captivating and beautiful. I know that 'beautiful' is probably not a word that many people would use to describe her but I would. Damn it I even like the way she smells after a day at work! I wish I knew what to do. We went shopping later to buy her an e-cig so we can give up together. Then we had lunch and, even after all that, I found it hard when we parted, feeling it hadn't been long enough.